Page 58 of Just Between Us

But loving someone almost destroyed me once. I don’t know if or when I’ll recover. Plenty of nights I still wake at three am, drenched in sweat, sheets twisted around me from nightmares no amount of time has managed to stop. Those middle of the night moments are the worst, dark pressing in from every side.

Then I look at Cassie, her face hopeful and vulnerable, waiting on me to say something, anything. My sweet beautiful friend who has been through so much already, deserves more than what I’m able to give. She needs someone who’s whole. Someone who can hand over their heart, intact.

Someone like Sam, with his perfect face, good manners, and uncomplicated life.

“No,” I say on a breath.

“No, what?”

“No, I can’t give you a reason.” The minute the words leave my mouth I want to suck them back.

Hurt flickers across Cassie’s face, but then it’s smoothed away with the precision of someone who knows how to mask pain. And that thought fucking kills me.

“Okay then. Good to know.”

She yanks on the door to go back inside, but I stop it with my foot, catching her wrist without thinking.

“Angel, wait.”

“Don’t angel me, Liam.” She jerks from my grasp, crossing her arms over her chest, chin tilted in defiance, unyielding. “You don’t get to be jealous if you’re not willing to do anything about it.”

“I’m not jeal?—”

“Bullshit,” Cassie cuts me off. Her eyes burn with something fierce and bright, and I can’t find the will to look away. “I felt the vibe. You were all but marking your territory a minute ago. But we’re friends,justfriends, right?” She says it with a sneer. “That’s what we’ve been for months now. So act like it. Be happy for me. Sam seems like a nice guy.”

“He does,” I manage.

Cassie shakes her head and lets out a breath. “Well, I’m going inside to find him. I’m giving him my number and letting him take me to coffee.”

And before I can form a response, she’s turned, flung open the door, and disappeared into the crowded bar.

But I don’t follow her in. I can’t watch Cassie give her number to Sam. Can’t watch him light up like he just won the fucking lottery. I finish off my cigarette, hoping it’ll do something to calm my nerves. Cassie, Julie, an anniversary I’m not ready to face down. It’s all a jumble of thoughts, my mind spinning like a top. I can’t think straight. Can’t separate what I feel now from what I felt then.

Rolling up my sleeve, I rip the patch from my arm and ball it up, throwing it on the ground. Then, because I’m not a total ass, I pick it up, walk to the nearby dumpster, and toss it in.

Wildlife and plastic, and all that.

“I’m stillin shock you’re going on a date with someone who isn’t Liam,” Josie says from the doorway of the bathroom. I’m perched on the toilet seat while Penny attempts to curl my stick-straight hair.

Seven days. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve heard from Liam. Since I stood in front of him and gave him every opening to choose me. And not as his friend but something more. But he didn’t. So maybe I’ve read this all wrong and I really am nothing more than a friend to him, if that. Because I’ve had seven days of silence. No calls. No texts. Nothing.

His silences used to last a few days, now it's a full week. Each time the gap stretches longer I wonder if a day will come when I lose him altogether.

I’ve replayed Halloween night in my head so many times, I could give Penny and Josie a play by play if they asked. The way Liam’s eyes flashed when he saw me talking to Sam. The pain in his expression he tried to mask before I could catch it.

“It’s just coffee at the bookstore. Not a date.”

“It’s definitely a date,” Penny and Josie say, almost in unison.

“If a man asks you to go anywhere, and you exchangenumbers, it’s a date,” Penny explains, like I’m new to dating or something.

“And with Mr. Walker. He’s a catch. All the middle school moms have crushes on him,” Josie adds. The thought occurs to me there’s a good chance he taught her daughter.

Penny releases the curling iron clamp and my hair falls limp down my back. “I don’t think your hair holds curl.”

Holding up my still-warm lock of hair, that most definitely did not hold the curl, I arch a brow at her. “Maybe we’re wasting our time.”

Penny switches off the curling iron and the three of us head downstairs, pulling out chairs around Penny’s kitchen table.